In the May 27 New Yorker, Tad Friend wrote a story, called “Crowded House: They thought that they’d found the perfect apartment. They weren’t alone,” that every single New Yorker or New Yorker wanna-be must read.
The title is not hyperbole as a lot of you, who’ll pick up shards from your own experiences with landlords (or the equivalent) when you’ve tried to rent or sublet an apartment, will realize.
Friend’s mind-boggling story introduces you to a whole lot of amazingly credulous people (some of them famous), a desirable Chelsea two-bedroom (that came with a bulldog mix named Tucker and, handily, a police precinct across the street), scams and counterscams, the D.A.’s office, the Hamptons, an old Mercedes that didn’t necessarily operate and Criminal Court and Housing Court — about which I have just finished up a how-to series.
Here’s a sip that made me laugh out loud:
His Hamptons escape plan was further hindered by his having alienated local real-estate agents and bounced a $13,700 check for the down payment on a house rental. And, of course, by the fact that the United States has an extradition treaty with Sag Harbor.